Prayer Wheel
by Aoi Shoudou
Summary: Jun, disgusted by the life of violence she's leading, joins an isolated convent. How will everyone react to her departure? What do higher powers have to say? Chapter 6 posted!
1. Chapter 1: Adaption

Prayer Wheel  
A/N: Yes, another piece of fanfiction to help me procrastinate even more. And I know   
this is kinda off-canon. Jun is supposed to be dead. But I like Jun, okay? Therefore, Jun   
lives.  
  
  
  
Jun fussily picked a bit of fluff off her white habit. The dizzying smell of the incense   
from Mother Azami's room slowly seeped in through the bottom of her door, filling her   
nostrils with a floral scent that reminded her of home. She woke from her dreamlike state   
and stared subversively back at the loom. Her weaving was not even close to being   
finished.   
Jun had always resented fighting. After winning the King of Iron Fist tournament, Jun   
donated all her prize money to pay for Julia's budding archaeology foundation. She was   
disgusted by the fights she fought and the pain she caused, and had finally had enough of   
this violent lifestyle. Joining a convent may not have been the best idea, but Mother   
Azami had assured her that it would protect her from the God of Fighting's evil   
influences. She hadn't seen or heard from Jin in weeks, either. He hadn't replied to her   
letter informing him of her departure ("I trust that you are truly mature enough to take   
care of yourself. I need this time alone, to purify myself of all the damage I've done.   
…Love, Jun"), which concerned her. As she thought about her pre-convent life, she   
unconsciously started weaving on the loom. After one month of this tedium, her fingers   
had grown used to the automatic movements the loom demanded.   
Despite all of this boredom, she couldn't say that joining Shinryuu Convent was a   
mistake. In that one month, she had experienced more catharsis and deep thought than   
she ever had in training for King of Iron Fist, and she had made several new friends   
among the nuns. She especially had warmed up to Sister Narin, who oddly enough was a   
childhood friend of Michelle's. Plus, Mother Azami's tutelage was kind-hearted and   
informative, and the food there was usually better than fighter's fare.   
Jun looked up towards the door as it swung open. It was Jin. He was dressed in his   
school uniform, his book bag slung around his shoulder. He had just gotten back from   
school, most likely. Jun rose up from her bench at the loom, more surprised than happy.  
"Jin! Hello! Why haven't you replied to my letters?" The greeting was somewhat rude,   
but he'd forgive her. Jin shrugged. "I don't like writing letters," was his rather transparent   
reply. Jun knew he was lying, but she said nothing in response.   
"Mom…Everyone misses you. So…could you come back? I can't cook without you   
and Julia just can't get the hang of the Ultra Pachiki." Jun chuckled, remembering their   
tag throw, and went back to spinning on the loom.  
"I'm sorry, Jin. I can't. I have a duty to uphold here at the convent." Jin shook his   
head.  
"Then I won't try to stop you. Goodbye, Mom…" Jin looked at the ground, and then   
looked back up at her – except it was no longer Jin. Ogre's face peered at her, still in the   
school uniform, a small smile creasing his face.  
"Jun…" Ogre's smile grew larger; he crossed his arms. Jun gasped and dropped the   
loom, tangling her weaving that she had worked so hard on. She stumbled out of the   
bench, knocking it over in an attempt to escape. Ogre, unfazed at her cries of mercy,   
strode over to her and picked her up off the ground by her neck. Jun wrenched herself   
free but only to find her back to the wall. She cried and realized that, after only a month   
in the convent, she had forgotten completely how to fight.  
"The God of Fight misses you, Jun," Ogre hissed. He crept up to her and readied an   
Aztecan sacrificial implement. Jun had no time to scream –  
  
…and then she woke up. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she was breathing hard,   
her chest heaving, her face red. It took her a solid minute to regain composure, after   
which she paused completely, and then started crying…she knew what was happening   
now. The God of Fight was calling her back. 


	2. Chapter 2: Revelation

Prayer Wheel  
Ch. 2  
  
Jun didn't get any more sleep that night. Her dream had horrified her; her state of mind   
was a mess. She sat in bed, her breathing becoming hoarse, contemplating whether the   
dream really meant anything, or if her past experiences had just taken the reins of her   
subconscious. She finally regained some of her composure, threw on a shawl (a   
particularly ugly one she had made with her accursed loom), and strode out of her room.   
Mother Azami, whose room was adjacent to the courtyard, would know what was going   
on.   
The courtyard, normally an inviting place for Jun because of the many birds that   
flocked there, seemed foreboding at nighttime. Walking across it seemed like something   
out of a horror movie. Nervously moving a little bit faster, Jun found her way to the   
inviting oak door of Mother Azami's quarters. As she extended her hand to the doorknob,   
she suddenly felt a pulse of some indescribable sense course through her. This was an   
odd occurrence; being at the convent had slowly dulled her psychic powers, and for them   
to recur so suddenly and so strongly was very strange. Immediately Jun drew her hand off   
the doorknob like it was white-hot, wondering what – or who – was in there that had   
made her telepathic sirens go off so suddenly. She put her hand gingerly on her forehead   
– the burst of negative energy had given her a headache. Eventually, however, Jun   
managed to regain her resolve and opened the door to Mother Azami's room.  
Nothing particularly horrifying was in there, except for Sister Riyu, who was an   
irritable old nun and the stool-pigeon to Mother Azami. Azami usually took what Riyu   
said with a grain of salt, for she knew of her desire to get everyone in the convent in   
trouble, but still kept Riyu around for her diligent nature. This time, however, Azami was   
in bed with a cold rag on her head, occasionally giving a wheezy cough, and Sister Riyu   
was tut-tutting over her bedside.   
"Daughter Jun, what do you need from me?" said Azami in a hoarse voice quite unlike   
her own. She coughed again. Sister Riyu gave a small gasp and poured a drink of   
something out of a nearby decanter.   
"Mother Azami is very sick!" snapped Riyu. "Unless your room is burning down – "  
"I – I suppose I'll wait," Jun said submissively, backing out of the room. "Thank you,   
Mother Azami, Sister Riyu – "  
"Jun, wait. You are troubled; I can tell, because you do not normally grasp your shawl   
so tightly." Jun realized that she had an iron grip on the ends of her uncomfortable stole.   
With a sheepish grin, she let go of it, letting the bunched-up fabric fall to her sides.   
Mother Azami gave a small, sickly smile. "And you, Riyu!" she added, her ill voice   
suddenly remembering its gentle authoritativeness; "You should not be so melodramatic!   
I am not 'very sick'; my head aches and I have the flu. Now, I ask you, please leave,   
because I believe Daughter Jun's matter is a personal one." Riyu, suddenly stunned that   
her opportunity for brownie points was blown to hell by Jun's advent, stormed out of the   
room gracelessly.   
Once the irritable Sister Riyu had left the room, Jun slowly explained to a constantly-  
coughing Mother Azami the situation at hand. Mother Azami slowly sat up in bed, her   
misty-blue eyes full of concern.  
"Daughter Jun, there is a story contained in this convent about The God of Fighting, or,   
as you know him, Ogre. Once, a disciple of ours named Sister Yoma participated in the   
very first King of Iron Fist Tournament, years ago, previous to coming to Shinryuu   
Convent. She won, but said she never felt the same after that…an odd sensation that   
someone was watching constantly, never being able to sleep…so she joined our convent   
in hopes that she could escape from the feeling." Mother Azami looked down at the   
festively-colored quilt she was wrapped in. "She died a month later. Someone had slit her   
throat." Jun gasped. "We kept things under wraps, prayed to keep the evil spirits away,   
and for a while it stopped…" Mother Azami began to cough again, spitting up a bit of   
blood. "Oh dear…Daughter Jun, I need to rest now. Please go back to your room, and   
should you have any more trouble, quickly talk to me."  
  
A/N: I like writing short chapters. Yay. Anyway, PLEASE FREAKING REVIEW   
BECAUSE NO ONE REVIEWED THE FIRST CHAPTER AND IT MADE ME SAD.   
Sorry for that outburst. 


	3. Chapter 3: Torture

Prayer Wheel  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
Mother Azami and her tale had not comforted Jun in any way; in fact, she had only disconcerted her any more. No mysteries were cleared up, and Jun was only left with more questions. Yoma? Jun had not recalled anyone by that name entering the first King Of Iron Fist Tournament. Still, her trust of Mother Azami was implicit, and Jun figured that there might just have been an oversight on the part of Azami's aging brain.   
  
Jun, closing the old wooden door of Azami's room, found herself once again in the eerily dark and foreboding courtyard. She walked towards her room, which was situated up a brief staircase onto a raised wooden porch; the tap of her sandaled feet against the cobblestones unnerved her a little. She looked up at the sky to see a marvelous map of stars spanning the heavens; the celestial world had always been a topic of fascination for Jun, in addition to her love of nature. The pollution of the big Japanese metropolises had always prevented her from gazing upon the stars, but they were seen perfectly in the crisp mountain air of Shinryuu. Before she lowered her head again, she saw what appeared to be a tyto alba - or night owl - flit across the sky to another tree. Jun's eyes lit up with delight as she saw the bird, and she used a simple bird call to summon the wary bird down to her outstretched arm.   
  
"Oh...what a beautiful bird you are..." Jun whispered, looking straight in the owl's brilliant yellow eyes. It seemed to absorb every word she said, as all other animals did; such was the talent of Jun Kazama. The bird still perched on her arm, Jun gingerly reached for the bird feeder with her other arm and took some bird food out of it. She offered them to the owl, which it took with delight, and stroked its tawny brown head. The owl playfully nipped her ear and disembarked from her long arm, flying off past the boundaries of Shinryuu Convent. Jun watched it until it finally disappeared over the old red roof, then turned in the direction of her room.   
  
A humanoid shadow flitted across the porch.  
  
Jun gasped. She did not have the time to see who it was; however, it made no footfalls, and looked almost as if it was floating. Normally, Jun would have bolted to tell Sister Azami, but something seemed to be restraining her. She looked around the courtyard frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shadow-veiled intruder, but he or she appeared to be gone. Jun was now very tense. A strange echo filled her head, a voice that she couldn't quite place, saying everything and nothing at the same time...   
  
She bolted into a brisk run, heading back to Mother Azami's room. As she ran, the end of her white nightgown's sash snagged itself on one of the gnarled branches of an azalea bush. Alarmed by whatever was impeding her progress, Jun tugged at her gown, where the offending strip of silk freed itself from the constriction of the branch. She set her sights once again to Azami's door, now breaking into a sprint, the cacophony of the mysterious voice growing ever louder and persistent. As soon as the terrified Kazama touched the doorknob to her room, an excruciating pain exploded through her head. She cried out and fell to her knees; the sting was so intense she could barely think coherently; red lights were bursting in front of her eyes. Never in her years of fighting had such a terrible pain ever afflicted Jun. She grasped her head with her hands, groaning with utmost agony, tears streaming down her cheek. The suffering was unbearable... Jun wanted to die, just to end it, just to end the pain...   
  
"Mother Azami! Mother Azami, help!" Jun cried out. Was she even saying anything; was her voice audible at all? She couldn't tell. The voice in her head was now deafening; still its babbling was incoherent, and yet it made all the more sense to her. Red light. Red light everywhere, were the only thoughts she could muster from her screaming head. Her surroundings seemed to be blurring out; she made one more futile grasp for the doorknob and collapsed onto the cobblestones.  
  
"Jun? Jun! Jun, wake up!"  
  
Someone was slapping her.   
  
Jun stirred a little bit. Her small black eyes opened gradually to reveal a very concerned Sister Narin holding her in one arm and preparing to smack her in the face again with the other; in fact, almost all of the nuns of Shinryuu Convent had appeared around the scene. Still terrified, Jun hopped to her feet and started to scream a ghastly scream.   
  
"JUN! What's wrong?" cried Mother Azami, who looked as if she'd improved from her previous feverish state. Jun continued to cry out, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, her shoulders hitching with the force of her wretched sobs. Azami took Jun, who was not in her right mind, and held her closely by the shoulders.  
  
"Jun...Jun..." Azami's voice permeated through Jun's disarrayed mental state, a beacon of light in a world of chaos. Her voice was clear as a clarion, but her lips did not appear to be moving. "Jun, please, try to regain your composure." Jun stopped screaming, but her breaths were still fast and labored and she still sobbed uncontrollably. A violent shudder erupted through her frail body; she shivered and shook her head. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, her mind managed to sort itself out. Her eyes met Mother Azami's icy-blue's, and the old woman's lips parted to speak.  
  
"Jun...what has happened here?"   
  
"N-no. Red light. The doorkn-nob. Shadows. No! NO! Oh, God..." Jun wanted to say so much, but only stuttering and strange words came out. Once again, she slowly felt her consciousness drifting away from her, but this time she managed to remain in the real world. A surprisingly coherent sentence came from her mouth: "Mother Azami, I need to return to my room." Azami, slightly taken aback by Jun's sudden lucidity, stepped aside and said "Oh-okay...Do as you wish. You need rest. Do you need any help?" Jun, her limbs heavy, shook her head 'no' and dragged herself slowly back to her room. It felt like the longest walk she had ever taken. Every bit of stamina she had left was expended just to take the next step; all of the nuns were watching with great looks of concern on their faces. Even Sister Riyu was alarmed at the aftermath of Jun's torturous encounter. Jun's sandals rose and fell heavily against the cobblestones, keeping an unpredictable rhythm, and it took her a solid twenty seconds to ascend the four steps onto the porch.   
  
After reaching the end of her awful zombie-shuffle, she swung the door to her room open. She stumbled clumsily to her bed and pulled the covers over herself, trying to be comfortable. The pain still raged through her body; it felt like a thousand needles were piercing every inch of her at once. After several more minutes of trying to ignore the horrible throbbing, she eventually fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
A/N: ...Wow. I don't think I've ever written a chapter that effective. I even got shivers writing it. Anyway, PLEASE review; a struggling writer needs his encouragement, you know. 


	4. Chapter 4: Infestation

Prayer Wheel  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A/N: First off, I'd like to thank all the people who left me such wonderful reviews for my humble little tale. Princess Michelle, Takita, Kazuya-sama, chandavatika, kuni-hwoarang, and Jayne too (=P), this one's for you!  
  
  
  
  
  
"Jun. Please wake up."  
  
Mother Azami's aged old hand gently touched Jun's cheek. She stirred in her sleep, a groan of pain escaping her lips. Mother Azami shook her head and turned to Sisters Riyu and Narin.  
  
"She won't wake up. It's not a coma...not that deep...but she simply can't will herself to leave the world of her dreams. Things have grown too traumatic for her in real life, it appears..." Mother Azami once again shook her head, her wrinkles deepening as she frowned in concern for her raven-haired daughter.  
  
Autumn had arrived at the Shinryuu Mountain Convent. The trees were flushing brilliant hues of browns, reds, oranges, and the leaves were slowly drifting down from their once-content perches on the branches. The summer had lapsed to the fall while Jun had slept; she had not regained consciousness for almost two weeks. Jun's favorite season was the fall, for many new types of birds often showed themselves, but it appeared thus far that she would not wake to experience them.  
  
"Mother Azami..." whispered Sister Narin. "Should we tell the authorities?" Mother Azami, without turning to face her, shook her head again.  
  
"A squad of police would simply scare off the sacred spirits that will eventually cure our Daughter Jun. This affair must be dealt with in a wholly spiritual manner. I do not know what evil menaces our little convent, but I am sure that it cannot be controlled by physical force."  
  
"Mother Azami, that's unreasonable!" said Riyu, hysteria beginning to penetrate her voice. "There's something severely wrong with Sister Jun already, and you expect us to solve this ourselves? What happens when more of us collapse and don't wake up? If we can't call on outside forces, we need to at the very least get Sister Jun to an infirmary or something of the sort..." Azami rose from her seat; her face, normally composed, now started to grow angry.  
  
"Are you familiar with the concept of 'psychic noise', Daughter Riyu?" Riyu, recoiling a little at the abnormal tone of Azami's voice, shook her head. Mother Azami opened her lips to speak, but at that moment Jun very suddenly sat up from bed.  
  
"Mother Azami? ...Sister Narin? Riyu?..." Jun looked around her room, her vision slightly blurred by half a month's worth of sleep. She then looked out the window, and upon seeing the trees and their red-orange leaves, gave a gasp of shock. "How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"Two weeks, Jun..." said Sister Narin. Jun, alarmed, turned back to face the three women in her room.  
  
"Has...has anyone else been attacked?" Jun inquired, concern suddenly welling up in the pit of her stomach.  
  
Mother Azami spoke. "Fortunately, there have been no other attacks..." Jun was relieved to some extent, but her own plight still remained up in the air. She got out of bed and bowed to the three. "Thank you for watching over me while I slept. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to get changed and bathe." All of the sisters bowed to Jun in return, even Riyu, who had never been particularly fond of the Kazama herself. As they departed out of the room, Jun gave a deep, appreciative breath of the crisp autumn air. In a world of dreams, she could never experience the true beauty of nature; an incentive she had used to will herself from her catatonia.  
  
Just as Azami had told Riyu and Narin, Jun was too terrified to once again face the real world, so she locked herself in her existence of sleep. She couldn't remember anything that happened in her daze; it was the sensation of having a dream that seemed vaguely familiar, but not being able to recall even a single detail about it. However, upon awakening, Jun felt a new impetus burning to find out what exactly was going on at Shinryuu Convent.  
  
Of course, after two weeks of remaining in one spot and sweating, a bath was definitely in order for the disheveled Jun. She walked into the simple bathroom, which consisted merely of a toilet, bathtub, a small mirror and a cabinet to hold what few toiletries Jun was permitted to have. The nightgown slipped off her weary shoulders and she turned on the hot water. Even the steam seemed to relax her weary and aching muscles, and she took a sigh of relief. She slipped into the bath and immediately the catharsis spread over her. The sensation of the hot water against Jun's skin relieved her mind of her troubled thoughts, and the only thing on her mind was the blissful warmth washing through her body. Wisps of steam escaped from the pool of hot water, filling the room with a thick, humid fog. Jun, sighing once again, slipped underneath the surface of the water, her hair drifting about her in a black halo.  
  
(Don't open your eyes.)  
  
The command burst through Jun's head clearly, in a voice quite obviously not her own...the voice of a man, a dark-sounding voice. Jun slightly panicked and did not open her eyes, because, as everyone knows, it is foolish to open one's eyes in a bath. After a few more moments of silence, she simply passed it off as a product of her imagination and drifted back into her dreamlike state.  
  
Jun's bath, like all good things must, came to an end. She hated to see it go, because after such a hellish night at the convent it was truly a boon, but the water was starting to stagnate and Jun hated lukewarm water. She pulled the chain plug out of the drain and emerged from the water. Wrapping a towel smelling faintly of lotion underneath her shoulders, she allowed a smile to cross her face for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. She strolled over to her dresser to find her habit, kneeling down to open the drawer on the bottom, and gasped at what she saw inside.  
  
Bugs.  
  
"What?!" screamed Jun, falling back from the open drawer. Hundreds of bugs were writhing through Jun's open dresser drawer, the clicking of their legs and pincers making a sound most unsettling to her. There were many types of awful insects; beetles, centipedes, flies, maggots, all of them heaped up on top of each other, wriggling in the most grotesque of ways.  
  
Jun stood back up and peered into the dresser; the bugs were still there, still squirming about, still collectively making their repulsive sounds. If there was one facet of nature that Jun could do away with, it was that of the insects. She just could not bring herself to hold them with the same esteem as the magnificent creatures of the air or land. Of course, comparing the insects to other animals wouldn't help her get them out of her room, so she thought briefly about how to dispose of the sudden infestation. Finally, Jun came to a conclusion; she took the dresser full of bugs and threw them out her window. Since her bedroom faced the side of the mountain, the bugs (and several habits that were in the dresser along with them) would simply fall out of the walls of the convent. She cringed a little as the heap of insects hit the ground with a stomach-turning 'plop!'.  
  
Despite the fact that none of the bugs appeared threatening or dangerous, Jun was still extremely confused about their sudden appearance, and in her clothes drawer to boot. In fact, a lot of things weren't making sense to her...  
  
"Does this tie...into my attack?" she mused to herself out loud. Jun decided to herself that it was time to do a little studying.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Well, once again I'd like to thank everyone for reading this. I'm not in it for the reviews, but...it's really nice to know that someone is reading what you put so much effort into, and enjoying it to boot! This is turning into something longer than I anticipated...=P I hope to incorporate some of the other Tekken characters into the fic - not so much as primary focuses, but at least how they have viewed Jun's departure from the whole fighting scene and all that. I am trying to keep this focused on Jun, after all. 


	5. Chapter 5: Manifestation

Prayer Wheel  
Chapter 5  


  
A/N: I haven't updated this in over a year. Recently, however, I've started to get re-interested in Tekken, what with the fast-approaching advent of Tekken 5 kindling my desire to play the games once again. Though my Jun game isn't nearly as good as it ever was a year back, I still consider her one of my favorite characters, and that got me warmed back up to the idea of continuing this old fic.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The convent had once represented a peaceful area for Jun; it was one of the only places where she could flee from the horrific tethers of fighting. A subdued lifestyle was what she needed after too many years of getting blood on her hands, and Shinryuu was the perfect getaway. In her final years of combat, Jun had developed an interest in the Shinto philosophies and the austere purity that they promoted. Everything in Jun's life returned to simplicity eventually; she lived simply, loved simply, even fought simply, and would likely die simply. Shinryuu was one of the few Shinto convents left in Japan, and Jun's decision to join the nunnery had taken everyone by surprise, even herself. Though the thought of fleeing from her obligations pierced her with apprehension, she had realized then that those obligations were, in those simple times, few in number.  
So Jun left. Jin was perfectly capable of taking care of himself at the competent age of 20, and she was hardly needed anywhere else. Her violent lifestyle was, conversely, an impermanent one, and she never had truly established any sort of ties or friendships, despite her friendly nature. She couldn't bring herself to – the people who she may have become friends with one day may be the people that she needed to fight with the next. All she needed to do was get in touch with the less violent side of herself, a decision that her beloved son understood well. As Jun left, bags in hand, she took one final look at Jin. His strong black eyes were filled with a hate that made Jun's battle-scarred heart ache.  
Rage only breeds more rage.  
The convent was no longer that peaceful area. The rage that she had fled from only followed her; it was manifested in some malignancy, now out to destroy her. It was a carnal bloodlust, something more horrible than she'd ever seen in any opponent, and the most frightening part of it was that she couldn't even see it. Not even the hallowed heights of Shinryuu could protect her from this.  
But what was this?  
Jun found herself in the library. It was night again. She was highly reluctant to go back outside at late hours after her experience two nights ago, but reading at night was the only way she could go undisturbed by the other nuns, especially the nosy Sister Riyu. The soft rays of candlelight fell upon the weathered old pages of The History of Shinryuu Convent, Jun's eyes greeting them on their descent, the sweeping katakana spinning through her brain like onyx ballerinas. That hour of the evening where everything becomes indiscernible had fast approached, and had hit Jun with merciless ferocity. Though the exact time was difficult to determine at the monastery, it couldn't have been any earlier than 1 AM. Jun's concept of time had slowly begun to fade as she stayed at the convent; she knew only the date from the little calendar she kept at her bedside, and that was all. She had no timepiece.  
A cold wind blew through the window, chilling Jun through her night gown, straight to the bone. The window shutters slammed against the walls with the force of the breeze, and Jun's candle quickly puffed out. She gave a disconcerted gasp with the sudden departure of the light, and quickly fumbled about in her habit for the matchbook. Jun had cheated at the life of simplicity she'd vowed herself to as soon as she stepped through the ornamental red gates, but there were some modern conveniences that she couldn't bid farewell, and matches were one of them. It was a grungy little book she'd picked up from some hotel on the Shouso Strip; some of the hotels that she'd stayed at previous to lower-level competitions were truly horrifying in every sense of the word. Jun struck the match deftly and held the tiny flame to the candle's wick, but it wouldn't light. A little alarmed, she frowned at the match and struck another, which bore equally fruitless results.  
All of a sudden Jun felt the fear she'd felt two nights ago well up inside of her stomach, and it churned up awful memories. She whimpered and attempted to strike another match, but her shaking hands caused her to drop it on the cold stone ground. She decided to leave the library, but as soon as she rose from the little padded chair the wick burst into flame as if it had never blown out. Jun gasped again. What is going on here? she thought, her thoughts swimming with terrifying possibilities. She didn't know what she'd do if her attacker returned; the library was a small area and it wouldn't take much effort for him to corner her. Jun looked to the door, but a peculiarly familiar instinct flashed through her heart. It was the childish apprehension of knowing what needed to be done for safety's sake, but not wanting to because there was a precious few seconds left to continue reaping the ill-gotten rewards. Jun's gaze fell back down to the book she was perusing, only to find that the page had changed, likely blown by the wind. Not entirely conscious of her actions, she read the page.  
"Sister Yoma Komatsu had lived in Shinryuu since the young age of 7 years old. She was a dutiful girl who excelled in her studies and displayed talents in various fields, especially artistic ones. As time wore on, however, she began to grow restless with life at the convent, and at the age of 22 she left to pursue other paths in life. One of our sisters received word that Yoma would be participating in the first sanctioned King of Iron Fist Tournament, news that greatly distressed Mother Azami." Jun gave a little chuckle at this. Mother Azami had been around Shinryuu since the dawn of time, it seemed.  
"Despite Azami's attempts to contact and dissuade Yoma from competing in the tournament, she seemed all but dead-set. This struck Azami as unusual, because Yoma had never trained in any sort of martial art. In fact, all of her motivations for joining the tournament remained a complete mystery to anyone. Yoma advanced to the final round, much to the surprise of spectators, who described her fighting style as 'some hybrid of primal assaults and masterful art'. The form of martial arts she used, however, was completely unrecognizable. Heihachi Mishima finally defeated Yoma in this round, and upon sustaining this defeat she suffered a violent seizure. Before medical help could arrive, Yoma died of an advanced cerebral hemorrhage. The nunnery managed to stifle this sensation from the media, declaring religious protection for Yoma, but rumors spread like wildfire about 'the lost Iron Fist fighter'."  
The end of this passage quickly segued into more dry history about the first nuns of the convent and their personal histories. The information was failing to sink into Jun's brain quite correctly, so in a half-asleep stupor she closed the book, took it under her arm and stumbled out the library door.  
Hundreds of shadows with red, sunken eyes were glaring at her. Their humanoid forms stood throughout the courtyard, fingertips trailing off into oblivion, faces indiscernibly contorted masks of pain and hatred. They were all screaming silently at her, screams quite like the ones that had ripped through her brain two nights previously, and Jun screamed in an all-too- familiar agony. She tried to recede into the library, only to find her back against the closed door. Painfully black shadows were twisted around the doorknob, a cruel chain of thorns lain to rip into only her flesh. As the legion of specters slowly encroached on her, tears rolled down her face; her body, spirit and mind would not allow her to go through this hell again. She had never felt so vulnerable or weak, and it was then that she realized that people needed other people. It was a peculiar time for this revelation to cross her mind, but desperation often stirs genius.  
"Yoma! Go away from this place! Take your misery and go!" she cried out. These shadows were not Yoma, but Jun had nothing more to say. They were the only words that her tongue could push out. She screamed in guttural agony and dropped the book; it seemed like the only action she could take. As the leather-bound tome hit the cobblestone ground, Jun's eyes flashed with one blinding glare of red, and the shadows were gone. They had faded just as easily as they had appeared. The History of Shinryuu Convent looked up at her benignly, its aged text concealing the fruits of her frantic study.  
Jun, her mind in shambles, kneeled down to pick up the book, but was overcome by a dominant feeling of helplessness and fear. Her outstretched arms instead returned to her, and she curled up into a ball, wrapped protectively around her knees.  
She had no one but herself.  
And with this, she began to cry.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: It's 2:50 AM as I write this; I like writing late at night because my prose tends to flow better. I don't really know why. Anyway, it was fun re- familiarizing myself with this old dinosaur again...Please read and review! =) 


	6. Chapter 6: Alteration

Prayer Wheel  
Chapter 6  
  
A/N: I realized as I re-read the fic more thoroughly that I made a couple of mistakes in continuity...=/ If you didn't notice them, then that's good. If you did...well, there's a year-long difference in between the time I wrote the chapters, so forgive me.   
  
  
  
  
  
Wrapped safely in her bed, The History of Shinryuu Convent hidden securely underneath her mattress, Jun reviewed the facts and fallacies swimming through her head. Yoma had not, in fact, died at the monastery, but instead of some sort of seizure after the Iron Fist Tournament. How could Mother Azami have mixed up those two? This was something that Jun could not chalk up to old age.  
Something is very wrong at Shinryuu Convent, she realized, and only curled up tighter beneath her covers.  
But I can't leave. Whatever has happened to this place, and whoever has been tied to it, I was the one that it picked to rescue it. I can't back out now.  
"God, give me sleep..." murmured Jun audibly and somewhat subconsciously, the quiet thundering of her voice piercing through her thoughts like a rocket. With one final thought crossing her mind, the fleeting and faceless image of death, she fell into an uneasy slumber.  
  
  
Jin Kazama stared at the letters upon the dining room table. His mother had written them, but he just didn't have the heart to read them. What could she, a woman born into a newer and infinitely more simple life, say to her son born and bred in violence? They only could have been letters of hollow "hello"s, reports on goings-on around Shinryuu, fleetingly spoken "I miss you"s. All she needed to say to him was contained in that final glance as she walked out the door.  
She had written him a letter from the final fighting tournament she attended, a small competition in Hokkaido. "I trust that you are truly mature enough to take care of yourself. I need this time alone, to purify myself of the damage I've done. Love, Jun." The words written in her elegant penmanship were burned into his brain, committed to some reflexive memory he had no control over. Before she left, she had come back to the house to collect her possessions before she left. He knew he would miss her, but she would have been back in due time. Jun needed this, after all.  
The steam of the hot ginseng tea frolicked under Jin's nose much as a playful child does, with a sweet sense of charm and carelessness. He had poured Jun's favorite tea into her favorite cup, the little china glass with the chip in the handle and 'sunrise' written on it in calligraphic kanji, and carried it into the dining room upon her favorite pewter saucer. The birds she lovingly kept filled the air with their rich and heart- warming anthems, and the room was filled with the plants that she tended to with the utmost of care. Jun was everywhere in this little house; he saw her and remembered her in each corner and every room.  
Jin stared down at the tea. The murky green liquid stared back. He didn't even like tea that much; had Jun gone so far as to possess him to drink it? As reserved and subtle as her presence was, she had really had more of an effect on him than he had thought. After all, the one who takes the child by the hand takes the mother by the heart.  
With a winsome sigh, he gave one last look at the modest little pile of letters on the table and rose from his seat. The walk over to the stack seemed to be in slow motion; he wasn't sure why, but there was an unusual sense of apprehension filling him. Jin picked up the most recently written letter, a document contained in an incredibly thin envelope of some strange paper, and tearing open the wax seal was a more rewarding touch than any blow he'd delivered to an opponent.  
His eyes fell upon the writing, and just as he'd predicted, it was an update on Jun's status at the convent. It was postmarked as August 17 – about a month ago. She had not written since. Her oldest letter dated back two months ago; that was around when she had first arrived at the convent. It was similarly unexceptional.  
Jin was a little worried at this sudden silence, but she was living at a convent. What could go wrong?  
  
  
Jun felt like a nightmare. She had not gotten a decent night's rest in almost a month, and as she gazed into her modest little mirror in her bathroom, it was quite evident. Her gentle black eyes were rimmed with forbiddingly sable rings and her only remaining habit (the others having been tossed out the window with the drawer full of bugs; Mother Azami had promised her some new ones) was wrinkled and in need of a washing. Her hair was matted and stringy and even her complexion had started to become abnormally flushed and erratic. And, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, the span of one month without shaving had caused some rather unpleasant growths on her legs and chin. She decided that it would be best to tend to these devilish little hairs, for there was nothing better to do on a silent Tuesday morning.  
Like with the matches, Jun had cheated and brought a razor with her as well. She was beginning to wonder if the very deities that she was trying to embrace at this convent were condemning her for breaking the life of austerity that they demanded. Even though it couldn't have been noticed underneath the long habits, Jun simply could not live with the concept of running around with unshaven legs. Even though some of the nuns had noticed that she was utterly devoid of feminine facial hair, she hadn't yet been caught, as the loose tile on the bathtub rim made an ideal hollow for the shaver.  
Jun gently lifted the peach-colored cover and removed the razor from the hole, and for one wild moment her eyes caught a rogue splash of crimson on the blades. Alarmed, Jun looked at the razor again, but the liquid was gone. She had never cut herself with this razor; how could blood have formed on the blades?  
Jun rinsed her legs with warm water from the bath and began on the thoroughly unremarkable task of shaving her legs. In her mind she quickly likened the blissful monotony to spinning on the loom, something that she had not done in a great deal of time. Her ugly little shawl had probably fallen into disrepair, not that she really cared, but Mother Azami would certainly be disappointed. Her thoughts quickly turned away from the accursed loom and back to the equally dull task of shaving, and to her surprise Jun discovered that she had completely finished her right leg while in her trance. The left leg proceeded similarly. Jun rinsed her legs again and strode over to the mirror, razor in hand, to shave her face.  
As she ran the blade across her cheeks, she suddenly became aware of a stinging sensation behind her right eye. Jun ignored the tingling; it was most likely an eyelash. After her cheeks, she dragged the razor below her jaw, but suddenly stopped when she felt the blade nick her right in the center of her neck. She drew the blade away and noticed a tiny fleck of blood resting there, and it quickly began to blossom; in an effort to blot it out she put a handkerchief to it and held it there. A small red stain appeared on the smooth cloth, but to Jun's horror it quickly exploded across the surface. The scarlet spot expanded so rapidly that she removed the handkerchief, and what she saw in the mirror elicited a scream of horror from the terrified woman.  
The cut, no longer a little fleck, had extended all the way from ear to ear in a wide and angry slash. Blood poured from the open wound, and as she lifted her hand to see if she was in some surreal dream, it poured down her arm, warm and thick. She screamed again, terrified, but then realized...  
Why is this not hurting?  
She blinked and the cut was gone.  
Jun looked at herself in the mirror again. Nothing. Not even that one little fleck. She wondered if she should cry or scream or just go back to sleep but she didn't know what would happen and she was going to lose her mind and  
I need to leave.  
Jun swept over to the bath and hid the razor once again, and hurriedly strode out to the front gate, where she noticed that several of the nuns were crowded about the front courtyard. She dashed out to meet them, and was greeted by Sister Narin.  
"Narin, I need to leave this place!" exclaimed Jun, a little less composed and quiet than she probably should have been. Narin, her thin hazel eyes knitted into a look of concern, gestured out to the courtyard. Jun saw that a massive amount of rubble and debris had knocked down one of the red arches on the trail leading to the convent and completely obscured the path itself. Despair welled up inside her stomach, and Narin's following narrative was hardly needed as she made a horrible realization.  
"Jun, there was a rockslide in the surrounding mountains and some of the rocks are blocking the path down. You CAN'T go back."  
Jun knew it wasn't natural. Someone was keeping her there.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Hah. Jun the Nun. I can't believe I only just caught that. Anyway, reviews are always appreciated; they let me know that I'm not wasting my life entirely. =P 


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